The Safe Haven/TSH Just: Chapter 2
Cheska City, Chelsea Prefecture *Blackfur Apartment Complex, East 32nd St. *Sunday, 5:45AM, 400BF Terrence Wyatt 1: TERRENCE AND MAYA SLEEPING OFF A NIGHT OF HEAVY DRINKING AND SEX Terrence lies prone in his bed. Five hours, seven vodka sours shots and a night of shagging later, he's spent. Suddenly, his phone rings. It takes him a while, but he rises from the dead and groggily reaches for his phone, trying carefully not to awaken the beautiful, brown haired vixen he'd somehow gone home with last night. Maria, he thinks her name was. Or Mary...maybe May? 2: TERRENCE AWAKE AND ON THE PHONE, ELIZABETH ON THE OTHER LINE FROM A COALITION FACILITY, SURROUNDED BY SUITS AND COATS “Wyatt,” he says into the receiver, sitting on the side of the bed. “Jesus...you sound like shit," NSF Captain Kirin Cisto says into her headpiece. "Yeah, well today's my day off...what's the haps?” “Get yourself dolled up and head to Fort Greymoor. Albert Willow was just found dead at his estate.” “Oh, hell…” Terrence sits up in his bed and rests his palm on his face, swiping his hair from his face and sighing. He knew this would’ve happened sooner or later. Chelsea Deputy Minister Willow had been the target of NSF investigations several weeks ago. He was suspected of embezzling regional funds and associated with gambling and the local mob. If not for some careful legal maneuvering by ace lawyer Isabelle DesMarais, Willow would have been convicted a long time ago, maybe even using him to take down other players in the Chelsea Mafia. “They’re gonna love that over there.” “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get a boner over it.” “Too late for that boss, morning wood’s a hell of a thing. What's the verdict? Mob hit to keep him quiet?” “I'm caught up dealing with some admin bullshit at the capital thanks to the shitstorm this thing might spark, but there are orders from the Queen Bee herself for NSF presence. Go to his mansion, give me a full report. Run your analysis as soon as possible and relay all leads to the local police force. Local PD is already on-site, try and work with them.” “Great, well…dealing with those pricks comes with the job. I’ll be en route soon.” *3: TERRENCE LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW, PENSIVE Terrence ends the call and sighs, resting his hands on the edge of the bed. He goes into the bathroom and cleans himself up in record time. As much as he wanted to stay and admire the brunette vixen whose name might be Mary, he’s got a job to do. Terrence rushes out of his apartment door before you can even say One Night Stand and off to the crime scene. --- *Fort Greymoor, Greymoor Prefecture *Inside Blackfur Apartment Complex, East 32nd St. *Wednesday, 6:17AM, 400BF *4: TERRENCE AT THE MANSION, LOCAL POLICE EXAMINING THE CRIME SCENE - WILLOW IS LYING DEAD IN MIDDLE OF HIS LOFT Terrence steps into the gruesome crime scene, the late Mr. Willow’s mansion. Albert was not a man for modesty. His apartment is decked out with the finest old world and modern furnishings - including the exotic, purple rug he was straddling post-mortem. Even his method of death was extraordinary. Someone appeared to have beaten his face in with his fists. The crime scene is gruesome. Three PD officers and several technicians work away as Willow lies, face practically carved into a bloody bowl, face-up in his skivvies in the middle of his posh loft. Willow’s guards were all lying dead as well - quick work, compared to Willow himself. Clearly just the means to the end. Whoever had attacked him also managed to disable security footage. A large humanoid officer greets Terrence as he walks toward Willow’s body, though perhaps obstructs might be the more functional term here. Local PD and NSF generally don’t have the greatest relationship at this point, so none of this is a surprise to Terry. It wasn’t too long ago that all city-states on Haven were independent. The Coalition’s formation and rapid union campaign changed that - every city-state was under the governance of the Queen, Elizabeth Jernigan. There were some people, though the minority, that didn’t take kindly to losing their autonomy as city-states. Unfortunately for Terrence, Mert is one such person. A lumbering oaf who can barely even be classified as human, after the grab bag of modifications he's had to himself. *5: MERT COMING INTO CONFLICT WITH TERRENCE “We’ve got this scene handled, fed,” he blurts out. “Local beef.” “Willow’s Deputy Minister, which means he’s a federal employee.” Mert bends his ugly face into a smirk. "...in our city, not yours." "The call's already been made by the Queen herself - this is big enough to fall under our mandate. You know, I could just as soon tell you all to fuck off...but I’m not trying to start a pissing match, and you're right - this is your turf. No that end, I’m hoping you want me out of your way as much as I want to be done with this mess. The way I see it, pooling our resources, solving this quickly is in the interests of both our groups. So, if you don't mind...the report?” Mert is clearly looking for a reason to disagree with Terrence’s calm and collected, logical response to his quip, but he’ll be damned if he would find it today. “A please wouldn't hurt.” Terrence, being a level headed individual does not get flustered easily. The perfect foil for Mert’s block-headedness. “Alright...the driver, Gary Miller came in this morning, around 5:30 to find the underground parking gate busted from the outside, his security detail out cold and Willow himself, face down in the carpet. Head appears to have been busted in, hand-to-hand. Some of these guards looked like they’ve been zapped but good too. Probably the work of a Gifted.” The disdain was almost palpable when Mert said “Gifted.” Nobody knows where the Gift came from, or how individuals are designated for it. All people know is that, when someone who has the Gift is placed into a moment of fight or flight, an adrenaline gland is activated that adapts its Host to that instance, manifesting itself in the form of an ability that one can manipulate at will from then on. Some of Terrence’s favorite Old World comics were about a world where people like him existed. The Inhumans was his personal favorite, but the list was wide and varying. Surely, the people of the Old World could never have imagined such things would come to pass, but so it has. Unfortunately, some choose to use their Gifts for not-so-legal exploits. The increase of Gift-related crimes is part of what made the NSF so necessary in the region, sort of a chicken and egg situation. Greymoor was known for its disorganized local security, so naturally it had gradually become the focus of higher crime. Each Prefecture has its own policies regarding Gifted, but Greymoor was notorious for having poor policies regarding Gifted. Terrence wasn’t sure what Mert and his colleagues despised him for more: being Gifted or being a Fed. “Scene suggests he overloaded the security before coming up from the underground parking, busted up his detail and killed Willow before he could even blink.” Terrence walks up to Willow's body. "This was personal, not a hit." "How the fuck do you know that, use your magic did you?" "The sheer aggression...it looks like he took out his men first, then slowly beat him to death. Defense wounds on his arms means he was up for a while." “Anything else, Columbo?” "Yeah..." Terrence turns to Mert, very matter-of-factly. “If you people had done your jobs before, taken the threat seriously, we wouldn't be in this situation...” (TO BE CONTINUED, INCOMPLETE)